


Stairway from Nowhere

by mayachain



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Creepy, Experimental, Gen, Not Human, Post-Hell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-15
Updated: 2011-10-15
Packaged: 2017-10-24 15:10:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/264900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mayachain/pseuds/mayachain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"There is blood left in the dirt in its trail, the stench of it tinged with smoke and fire. Its blind stumble is followed by the predators of a tree-filled place with wary eyes and offended noses, scenting <i>bleeding</i> and <i>vulnerable</i> but <i>not prey, wrong</i>."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stairway from Nowhere

**Author's Note:**

> Written way before we really knew anything about canon!hell. Beta credits belong to **just_ruth** and **maras_morgue**.

**01**

It doesn't know where it is, who it is, _how_ it is, coming to be in this different realm through an eerily Stonehenge-like formation of solid rock feet pounding, running, running.

There is blood left in the dirt in its trail, the stench of it tinged with smoke and fire. Its blind stumble is followed by the predators of a tree-filled place with wary eyes and offended noses, scenting _bleeding_ and _vulnerable_ but _not prey, wrong_.

It is running, running, it doesn't know where or how or where to, doesn't know anything but away and _somewhere_ to find _something_.

 _April 23 2010, 12:01_

  
 **02**

It is running, running, somewhere to find something and _away._ Its skin is raw; there are many places on its running body where there is no skin left at all. No skin, only patches of open, exposed, red meat, half crusted with blood, red liquid trickling out.

Its left hip and right shoulder are burnt almost black, ugly marks left on its body by fire it can remember nothing about. It is running, running, it is not in that place anymore and it doesn't care if it's managed to trick them or if they let it go on purpose.

 _April 23 2010, 16:14_

  
 **03**

It is running, running, and it doesn't know where to, only knows the urge deep within its bones to _find_ whatever it is, the whatever _something_ that's the only reason it could leave the fire-filled place, its whatever something that's the only reason it is out and... maybe... alive.

Bloody feet cover distance after distance of the tree-filled place, but eventually it has to admit that the whatever something it is searching for is not, cannot be here. It halts to stand still for a moment, breathing hard, squinting, trying to gauge the best way out of the trees.

 _April 24 2010, 19:03_

  
 **04**

It is running, running even faster than before, faking courage to leave the trees behind. Everything is too bright, too loud, its eyes hurt and it can barely see. The enormity of open space is frightening, a black broad line cutting through the vastness the only sense-making thing.

There are monsters rushing by on the path, too loud, too fast, and it thinks _they're going somewhere._

It doesn't matter how scared it is, they're going _somewhere_ and it has to follow them. It keeps running, running, confused by sounds and sights and smells its mind cannot comprehend.

 _April 25 2010, 7:48_

  
 **05**

It is running, running, away from the trees and into the realm of shadow-beings, taller and darker than the occasional animal it met in the tree-filled place. It knows that the whatever something it's searching for resembles them as soon as it spots the first, a little like the Others in the flame-filled place but not broken, more whole.

One of them might know where its whatever something is, but there are so many of them hurrying along the pavement, and it is too scared of hollow gazes being laid upon it that it doesn't dare to ask for directions.

 _April 25 2010, 13:21_

  
 **06**

It is running, running, distance after distance among the shadows, afraid that they will see it, but they don't. Many a time one comes near it, but their eyes slide over it, no sign of recognition.

The realm of the shadow-beings is very different from the flame-filled place. It gets the feeling that it can run a long distance and not be harmed, here. Its injuries, so much graver than those of disabled shadows it sees don't seem to matter like they should.

Without its something, however, it will remain helpless, alone, so it keeps running, running.

 _April 26 2010, 9:15_

  
 **07**

It is running, running, looking for its something among the shadows, halting sometimes to size them up as they pass by, mind filled with confusion. _Yes_ , its something looks like the shadows, but the shadows come in so many sizes and it cannot decide if its something is supposed to feel smaller or bigger under its hands.

It yearns to find it, touch it, and it knows it is no shadow itself, but maybe it will find its something sooner if it tries to be like them. So it eats, like it watches the shadows do, stuffs its face with leaves and dirt, feeling no hunger, no thirst, no pain.

 _April 27 2010, 17:26_

  
 **08**

It is running, running, another distance when there's a loud sound and cold liquid starts dripping from the sky, drips into its wounds.

Whimpering, soaked and terrified, it wishes its something were there with it, it's supposed to be _big_ , could give it shelter, could hold it and tell it why it needs to find it, what it means and why, why they've been apart.

Somehow, at least, its skin and the no-skin-at-all places feel better after the liquid stops, there is less blood and it is maybe a little bit cleaner.

 _April 28 2010, 4:32_

  
 **09**

It is starting to feel that is has not stopped, has not rested since it escaped the flames many distances ago. The realm of shadow-beings is wet from the liquid, its running feet find the pavement muddy and slippery.

It has not found its something yet, maybe it won't, it doesn't want to think that it might not and it is running, running away from the evil hopeless thought, too fast, too fast the ground wet from the liquid and -

The instant it lands in the dirt, face down, it knows something is different.

 _April 28 2010, 14:48_

  
 **10**

It is lying on the ground, hurting and hopeless and no longer invisible.

The shadows can see it. The shadows can see it; it tries to get up but the shadows are shouting at it and at each other, harsh words it cannot understand and closing in.

It raises its hands to protect its head, protect its eyes, tries to scream, can only think _away away away_ and has no way to realize, as it fades _oh God oh God fades away from them_ , that the white flash is a zealous person's camera snapping a picture of it.

 _April 28 2010, 14:53_

  
 **11**

It is limping, lumbering, dragging its feet at snail speed when it cannot run another distance. It tries to be careful, but it loses control with every new terrifying hopeless thought; there are more and more distances with shadows gasping, shocked, surprised, seeing it.

It cannot count the distances. There have been so many, so many and it still hasn't spotted its something among the shadows, and maybe it will never find it but now it's being threatened, followed, stalked, there have been many distances but it knows, it knows it has seen the black monster before.

 _April 30 2010, 22:18_

  
 **12**

Its strength is at its end. It won't find its something, and it wants to stay here at the place with the trees, simply disappear again. It cannot run anymore, lies slumped against a strong, thick trunk, listening to and dreading thudding steps from behind.

All this effort and its escape was for nothing, it has been found, they'll take it back to the flames and _no_ -

A hand, the barest touch to its unburned shoulder blade, hesitant and gentle. A voice, rough and filled with tears and disbelief and young, and when its Sammy speaks its name, it feels warm and amazing and whole.

 _May 2nd 2010, 11:59_

  



End file.
